


She Can Live With That

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: John invites Mary to come with him to visit Sherlock's grave on All Souls Day.
Relationships: Mary Morstan & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Kudos: 23





	She Can Live With That

She watched him from a short distance as he stood there.

As they got closer to their destination he had let go of her hand. She knew he had not noticed that he had moved ahead of her, let alone that she had stopped altogether. She knew he would need a moment or two first. This was important.

So she let him have the moment. It was enough that he had invited her to share in this with him as it was. She placed the picnic basket on the ground by her feet and patiently waited.

She was surprised and happy to realize he had noted her absence after all. Though his head was bowed, she saw as his shoulders squared and a steady gloved left hand reached out. There was no flinch of surprise of her absence. There was no waving the hand around searching. The man had faith in her and simply reached out knowingly. She quickly stepped forward and gave veracity to that faith.

She could live with that.

She accepted the firm squeeze of his offered hand; she knew he was ready then and went back for the basket.

It was a lovely autumn day for London. Half of the trees were bare. Yellow, red and orange foliage peppered the still mostly verdant grounds. And while cold enough for a coat, hat and gloves, it did not yet have the bite that lets one know winter was imminent.

They cleaned the headstone of the gravesite they stood in front of. They removed the wilted and dead flowers of past visitors and replaced them with the small bouquet she insisted on bringing despite her companion’s assurances that the soul buried there was not one for such mawkishness and would have mocked the waste of what was once living on the dead. He gave her an indulgent smile as they spread out a large blanket and had a picnic, just the two of them.

The picnic was lovely. He had a small photograph and other mementos with him. He told the story of each as he placed them down on the ground. The stories that were told were in turns heart lifting and heartbreaking, yet wonderful nonetheless. She understood just that much more about the man she had grown so close to these past months as well as the person buried beneath the headstone.

When the picnic was done, the base of the headstone was adorned with her fresh flowers, the photograph and mementos. The black marble was imposing, beautiful, different, and seemingly indifferent. Very much like the person immortalized by it. He placed one last item amongst the others: a battery-operated tea light candle. They could not leave a real lit candle at the gravesite for obvious reasons, but this would do.

This had been her idea. A modified _All Souls Day_ commemoration at the grave of the most important soul to touch the man by her side. He still grieved, but he was no longer the broken shell of a man she first met months ago when she started working at the surgery. This would be a first of what she suspected was the beginning of a new tradition for him – for them? Yes, them. That he shared this with her and did not do it alone proved it. Perhaps they would only do this for the next few years, perhaps forever, but definitely for now.

She could live with that.

As they prepared to leave, they cleaned up everything but the flowers and the tea light candle. 

They each took one last look at the gleaming headstone engraved with no dates, no words of sentiment, only a name.

Oh, but that name was everything to the man who stood in front of it once more.

He took another tea light out of his pocket, turned it on and wordlessly put it in her hand. She understood the symbolism. A part of him that she knew she will never be able to touch will always shine bright for the man buried there, but he burns brightly for her as well. This was one more way of him letting her know that he was hers now. 

She took it for the sign it was when he took her hand again and did not let go as they left the cemetery.

She suspected that he was going to propose to her soon, nothing will come between them.

Not even the dead. 

She could live with that.


End file.
